Strange and Disturbing Ideas
by janizer
Summary: Shaun, Desmond, and company discover their fandom. More particularly, their kinkmeme. ShaunDesmond, LucyRebecca, others, and various combinations. Kinkmeme fill.


Desmond could hardly believe his luck. Shaun had let him use his computer – a _real _computer, with internet and everything. Internet. Desmond grinned excitedly. Real internet. He could see what had been going on in the world while he'd been cooped up. God, he could use _Google_.

He could look up porn.

The noise of Shaun shuffling papers at the table behind him made him sigh. So maybe porn was asking a little much. But still. Internet!

Of course, he wasn't on there just for a free ride, a sort of yeah-thanks-Desmond,-for-all-the-whacked-out-shit-you-go-through-in-the-Animus-and-all thing. No, he had a goal. After an apparently _particularly_ revolting revelation of just _how_ little Desmond knew about the Order's history, Shaun had all but ordered him to fire up the ol' laptop and figure it out for himself.

As the browser window filled the screen, Desmond rested his chin on one hand, wondering where the hell to begin. Assassins generally made a point of being rather… secret, didn't they? Which was why only Shaun seemed able to make heads or tails of past events?

Desmond glanced over his shoulder. Shaun had his back to him, sifting through a stack of papers, pen in hand. No. Desmond turned determinedly back to the computer. He was _not_ going to ask for help.

Well, what could it hurt? Typing out 'assassin' in the search bar, he hit enter and waited for the cabin's rather pitiful connection to load.

The first thing to pop up was the Wikipedia page, and, shrugging, he took that. Scanning through it, he caught bits and pieces about the Middle East, and Masyaf (the modern picture of which sent a chill down his spine), and ancient political killings. He knew all that – after all, it wasn't as if he hadn't lived it or anything. The history, however, petered out as the centuries wore on, and he was left with little or no new information, even the best of which was subject to scepticism. After all, the Templars had been turned back from Masyaf by Altair sending a barrage of logs at them, not by a threat to Saladin's uncle or whatnot.

He slumped a bit, flicking the scroll wheel. This sucked. Shaun was still right behind him – there was no way he was going to get away with goofing off, let alone watching porn.

Wait. He scrolled back up. What was that?

He read aloud, confused. "…the basis for the videogame series _Assassin's Creed_. Shaun, what is this?"

"What, can't remember how to use a mouse?" Grumbling, the historian set his papers aside and stood, peering over Desmond's shoulder.

"Here," he said, tracing the line of text with a finger. "What is this? I thought we were supposed to be all secret and shit." He clicked the link. A familiar, though slightly embellished, image greeted him. "Altair? What the—?"

Much to Desmond's alarm, Shaun laughed heartily at the apparent breach of security. "Mark, you old bastard," he said, chuckling around the fist he'd pressed to his mouth, "You actually finished it."

Desmond, mildly horrified at seeing a play-by-play of his Abstergo adventures on Wikipedia, of all places, stared up at Shaun. "Uh, _hello_? Security problem here?"

Shaun laughed again, clapping Desmond's shoulder. "No security threat, Desmond. The New York branch's PR department's been working on this puppy for ages. It's a Complex-Action Decoy, also known as a CAD. Movies, viral campaigns, videogames, commercials, all sorts of media – all based off of reality, with more or less fabrication. We're developing a string of them to throw Abstergo off our backs a bit."

Desmond's brain had shut down somewhere around 'PR'. "We have a PR department?" he asked, dumbly even to his own ears.

Shaun sighed. "_We_ don't," he said, with an air of particularly charitable patience. "The New York branch does. Did you understand anything I just said?" At Desmond's silence, Shaun sighed again. "Okay. We've been developing a series of decoys to throw Abstergo off as much as we can. Videogames, internet ads, movies, that sort of thing, all based off around us. The public could care less – it's just another consumable on the market, really – but the Templars figure we won't put anything actually _true_ in the decoys, for fear of the whole world knowing everything about us."

Desmond glanced back at the screen. "But all this is true," he pointed out. "It all happened."

Shaun nodded, gesturing as if waving along slow-moving ideas. "And Abstergo knows it did, so there's no point in hiding it, is there? Besides, we've got to get funding somewhere, and it makes a pretty good videogame concept, you've got to admit."

Desmond considered. "Yeah, I guess you're right. So what's the point? I mean, this is all there is, right?" He gestured at the page, headed by the rather dramatically rendered Altair. Shaun smirked.

"There's a sequel. And another in the works." He scrolled down and followed another link. This time, a drawn figure that was undeniably Ezio met Desmond's gaze. He winced.

"That's really just _too_ creepy."

Shaun ignored him. "There are also additional materials to the game, if I'm not mistaken. Ah, here. 'Lineage', I think, and what was the other? Ah, I can't remember. Anyhow. They were supposed to be created if the first game met with much success – and it looks like it did. Congratulations, Miles. You're a star."

The search for Assassin history was all but discarded after _that_ revelation, and once Shaun had safely turned his back, Desmond was all over Googling everything and anything related to this 'Assassin's Creed'. After several rather disturbing run ins with the computer-animated versions of his—and his companions'—faces, however, and despite the undeniable appeal of the stylized, flashy artwork of Altair poised to strike, or Ezio swaggering through the streets of Venice, he treated the image search with a good deal of caution.

It was through a vaguely convoluted route that might or might not have involved searching for Lucy, naked, that he stumbled upon it. 'Kink Meme', the link said, and, his head filled with images of Lucy in leather, Rebecca tied up—possibly gagged—Lucy tying Rebecca up, Shaun in leather—Shaun?

No. That was just _wrong_. Shaking his head to dispel the images coming to mind, he focussed on the webpage.

The first request featured Lucy, with Altair. Desmond frowned, confused, and scrolled on down. The second one made him choke.

"Desmond?" Shaun turned, sounded somewhere between startled and concerned. "You okay?"

Frantically, Desmond scrabbled for the Back button, but too late. Shaun rose from his chair.

"_What_ is that?"

"Uh," Desmond said, turning a deep shade of red. "I dunno."

"That's—"

"Me."

"Yeah. And—"

"Lucy."

There was a pause. "_Bizarre_," said Shaun, and pulled up a chair.

* * *

It was some time before they were stumbled upon by Rebecca, who opened the door abruptly, looking annoyed. "Are you deaf?" she demanded, marching into the room. "I've been calling you for _ages_. Supper."

She paused, her message delivered, and regarded them. They'd turned to look at her, each of them slightly flushed. Most remarkable, was that they were seated side by side, with no sign of a scuffle and no bruises, cuts, or blood. Her eyes narrowed, suspicious.

"What are you two doing?"

"Nothing," came the too-fast answer from Desmond.

She peered at the computer screen, trying to see between their heads. They leaned sideways, obstructing her view. Her hands went to her hips. "What is it?" she demanded, stepping forward and then stopping, an expression somewhere between delighted and alarmed on her face. "You're not looking at porn or something, are you?"

Desmond gaped; Shaun rose to his feet. "I was just showing Desmond the CAD," he said, his voice admirably level despite the dark pink on his cheeks. Desmond couldn't hold back a snicker, and tried to cover it with a cough. Shaun pinched him behind his back, irritated.

"Oh yeah?" Rebecca raised an eyebrow. Her eyes flicked between them. "Ohhh," she said slowly, as if suddenly understanding everything. "You found the kink meme, didn't you?"

Now, Shaun was gaping. "How did you—You _knew_ about it?"

"Duh," Rebecca retorted. "How stupid do you think I am? Of course I know about it."

"You didn't think that was something you might have wanted to, uh, _share_ with the rest of us?" Desmond was torn between mortification at what she might have read, and annoyance that _he_ hadn't been able to read it sooner.

"Uh, _no_."

Upon consideration, that had probably been a wise idea. He nodded. "Yeah, good point."

"So," she said, grinning now. "Which ones've you read? Seen the one with me and Lucy?"

"No," Shaun said, adjusting his glasses and looking uncomfortable. "Must've not got that far yet."

"Oh," she said. "Too bad. It's a good one." She looked between them, at the computer, and then at the clock on the wall. "Right. Anyway, supper time. Kink meme can wait."

Dutifully, the men followed her out of the room and down the hall, towards the kitchen and dining room. "So," said Desmond, sidling up to her. "Into girl-on-girl?"

She grinned at him. "On occasion."

"Well," said Shaun from behind them, clearing his throat. "Who wants to tell Lucy about all this?"


End file.
